Attempting To Write A Novel @blueswritingblog - Tumblr Blog

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Welcome all!

This is my writing blog!

Tags I Use:

#bluewrites = original work from me

#bluesresources = resources, references, guides, etc

#bluespromptclues = writing prompts

#bluescharacter = character art and inspo

Have fun! Feel free to send a message and we can vibe as moots

#bluewrites #bluesresources #bluespromptclues #blueswritingblog #bluecharacter

starpains

on “the blond,” “the older man,” and other crimes against third-person limited

You know that thing where a story is written in tight third person limited — we’re meant to be inside someone’s head, seeing the world through their thoughts — and then suddenly the narration says “the blond frowned” or “the shorter woman sighed” about a person the POV character knows really well?

That’s called antonomasia — using a descriptive label instead of a name. And it’s fine when we’re talking about strangers: “the cashier handed her the receipt,” “the tall guy blocked the door.” The POV character doesn’t know their names, and we just need a quick way to tell people apart.

But the moment it’s used for someone the POV character already knows, it breaks immersion. Because that’s not how our minds work. We don’t think “the older man smiled at me.” We think “Mark smiled.” Or maybe “my boss” if that relationship matters in the moment.

Third person limited means the narration sits inside someone’s perception. Their inner monologue is the story’s voice. So when you switch from “Mark smiled” to “the blond smiled,” you’ve pulled the camera away from their mind and turned it into an outside shot.

If you want to create distance or irritation, you can do it on purpose —

“The idiot from accounting emailed again.”

That’s character voice. That’s judgment. That works.

But otherwise?

As soon as your POV character knows someone’s name, use it. While we do tend to worry about repetitions, names rarely register as such to the readers.

If you need variety for rhythm, use relational or emotional identifiers that make sense in their head: her friend, his partner, their teacher, the person they loved.

Because inside someone’s thoughts, there are no “blonds” or “brunettes.”

There are only people they know.

appendingfic

Instead of doing NanoWriMo I will be doing something where I try to aim for writing an actual average of 400 words a day for the month of November in memory of Terry Pratchett, who as far as I know never thought telling a computer to write a book for you is a good way to hone your skills as a writer.

sweaterkittensahoy

I LOVE THIS. THIS is the spirit of NaNoWriMo: to invent a challenge to make you write.

If I may add some ideas:

The 666 challenge: Writing six pages a day in a month (no matter how shitty) because Stephen King writes 6 pages a day. Equating it with the devil is to explain why it's shit sometimes.

The 420 challenge: Get high. Write 420 words a day.

THE OTHER 51 challenge: Write 51 words a day because, yes, Hamilton wrote 51 essays in six months, but that bitch was crazy, and you can write 51 words without feeling like you're running out of time.

The Fibonacci challenge: Try to write as many words a day as required to meet the Fibonacci sequence. So, 100 on day one. 200 on day two. 300 on day three. Etcetera. If you don't hit the number in the sequence, you can respond "DO I LOOK LIKE A MATHIMATICIAN TO YOU"

If you wanna NaNo your heart out at 1667 a day, absolutely do that. Enjoy it! But if start talking now if you're looking for a group who will join you and not try to fuck AI up its server-hole.

downtroddendeity

I would like to gently advise any Tumblr users to absolutely the fuck not try to attempt that "Fibonacci challenge," because it means that your goal for the month of November would be to write 134,692,200 words.

beardedmrbean

#ooohhhh

writingwithfolklore

Movement Kills Pacing

Something my screenwriting prof told us that really stuck with me was “avoid just moving bodies through space”, as in—movement on its own isn’t storytelling. I sometimes get into this habit where I get so caught up in where my characters are spatially that I forget to tell the story in favour of clearing up who is where and what each movement is, ala:

Anna walked over to the kitchen, picked up the pitcher and paused, deciding whether or not she wanted water, before crossing back through the living room and looking out the window, then walked back towards the kitchen yadda yadda yadda, you’re bored, I’m bored, this isn’t a story, this is someone walking around.

As with everything in writing, I’m not saying movement should be cut out entirely, but I am saying that it works best when it’s used intentionally. In any normal scene, other than a quick set up of who is generally where at the start of the scene: (Anna sat in the driver’s seat, staring down at her phone as John fell into the passenger seat beside her), we don’t need to know every little movement they make—readers will assume and fill in the spaces where movement may seem obvious.

Then, the best time to bring up movement again is either for a dramatic motion (Anna leapt from the car window, tumbling across the concrete), or a dramatic shift in emotion/psychology. (John’s brows furrowed tightly. Turning on his heel, he stormed from the room.)

Essentially, if you can take it out, you should. We have to trust our readers that they will fill in all the spaces we leave—we don’t necessarily have to write it out for them.

Good luck!

seth-whumps

takes you by the hand. please please please if you're stuck on your WIP or you can't figure out how to progress the scene PLEASE skip ahead. skip a few lines ahead. skip until the next Thing you can think of happens. skip to it skip to it skip to it. you may uncover what you were missing in the midst of your next scenes and you may discover that just transitioning straight to Next Part works flawlessly. skip it. don't sink. skip.

comfortingcatharsis

Broken bones, like a clavicle or scapula, that can't really be splinted or immobilised beyond securing the affected limb in a sling and being very cautious not to move or jar the shoulder of the injured side; no rigid security of an encasing cast or splint like that for a broken wrist- the shoulder-blade or collarbone are reliant on the surrounding bodily structures to guard and support them throughout the gradually-healing pain of being fractured and the injured character is moving with the utmost gingerness.

federaliszt-deactivated20250107

this is one of my favorite injuries to give to whumpees because basically no matter what the basic situation is, they're completely fucked.

getting captured, manhandled by angry hands? pain.

getting tied up or chained up and thrown in a cell? pain.

getting drafted into fighting a battle because the good guys are short-staffed that day? pain.

getting a hug from an overeager loved one who missed them very much? pain.

trying to make themselves breakfast or drive a car or sit at a desk? pain.

it's just such a great affecting injury, love it a lot.

seth-whumps

characters raised to be tools

Weapons. Trained, tested, forged in steel and fire. Failure is an inevitability that ends in death. Pain should not be felt--it should be recognized, familiar, and inconsequential

Martyrs. In the form of servants and princes, of leaders and underdogs. If blood is necessary, the martyr will lift their hands and offer it all

Shields. Like tempering a sword, but only to bear and not to lash out. Wounds are medals--not symbols of pride, but symbols of worth. A pretty shield is useless; scars mean a job well done

Experiments. Raised on the cold comfort of a lab table. Restraints are only necessary when they're not in their right mind. Is it honorable, to be twisted beyond recognition? Or is it just a necessary evil?

Monsters. Cruelty, caution, and regarding one as a creature beyond reasonable thought is tempering in its own right. But if you keep a leash at the right length, perhaps the massecre won't reach you. One can hope.

Idols. Pretty face, pretty name, pretty hands around their shoulders and throat. There to seduce, manipulate, force any feeling to come to the surface and twist it to their favor. Any genuinity stays locked behind the guilded cage that surrounds their pretty little heart

Trophies. Status and wealth and the traditions that keep someone at their heels, on their knees, to display and serve and decorate one's ballroom.

Sacrifices. Drenched in honorable clothes, prepared and adored and cleansed. The gift of hope at the cost of one's life. Is it taken with no fight? How can you escape the ropes you were born in?

luna-azzurra

Rage, Grief & Other Quiet Explosions

(Emotional meltdowns that don’t look like meltdowns, but absolutely are)

The “Smiling Too Much” Grief Your character’s entire world is on fire, and they’re asking if anyone wants more wine. That’s not denial, it’s an effort to hold the damn pieces together. Smile like a glue gun. Watch them crack.

The “Not Crying At the Funeral” Breakdown They don't shed a tear. They organize everything. Perfect speech. Perfect outfit. But a week later, they scream into the laundry basket over a missing sock. That’s the moment. That’s the eulogy.

The “Silent Dinner Table” Fight No yelling. No slamming doors. Just chewing. Clinking silverware. The kind of silence that tastes like metal. Let the reader feel the air shrink.

The “Polite but Dead Inside” Apology They say “Sorry” because it’s expected, not because they’re ready. Their voice doesn’t crack. Their eyes don’t meet yours. This isn’t healing. This is a peace treaty with no peace.

The “I Don’t Want to Talk About It” Detour The one where they ask about your day mid-sob. Redirect. Deflect. “Let’s not talk about me.” That’s rage choked by shame. Write it like it’s shoving itself into a smaller box.

The “Obsessively Productive” Meltdown New projects. New hobbies. Suddenly they’re running marathons, baking sourdough, fixing the garage door. Because if they sit still for one second, they’ll break. Keep the camera on them when they finally sit.

The “Unsent Letters” Grief They write it all down. Every damn emotion. Then burn it. Or delete it. Or hide it in a shoebox under their bed. It’s not for closure. It’s to let the ghosts know they were seen.

The “I’m Fine” That Echoes Delivered too fast. Too sharp. You could bounce a quarter off it. “I’m fine” isn’t fine. It’s the dam cracking. Listen to the echo. Let another character hear the hollowness.

The “Hyper-Logical Rant” Rage They argue with spreadsheets. With perfect bullet points. Cold rage—like ice, not fire. “I’m not mad, I’m just saying…” But that’s a lie. They’re volcanic under that clipboard.

The “Laughing in the Middle of the Breakdown” Moment That bitter, hysterical laugh. The kind that sounds more like sobbing with teeth. Let it come at the worst time. Let it shock even them. That’s emotion refusing to stay boxed in.

#bluesresources

luna-azzurra

When writing toxic family dynamics

Toxic family stuff isn’t always screaming matches or broken plates. Sometimes it’s quiet control. The expectation to shrink, the pressure to be perfect, the guilt that rides shotgun. It’s complicated. And it’s deeply, deeply personal.

✧ Make the love real, but conditional. One of the most damaging things about toxic family is the illusion of love. It’s not “I love you no matter what.” It’s “I love you when you obey.” Let your character notice that.

✧ Control shows up in micro ways... Who’s allowed to speak. Who’s allowed to feel. Who apologizes first, even when they’re not wrong. Control doesn’t need to be loud. Sometimes it’s a raised eyebrow or a guilt trip.

✧ Let them question reality. Toxic families are great at gaslighting. Your character might constantly wonder, Was it really that bad? Am I being dramatic? Let them doubt their own memories. That internal confusion is real.

✧ The guilt will be crushing. Leaving a toxic family doesn’t feel empowering at first. It feels selfish. It feels wrong. It feels like betrayal, even when it's survival. Show your character grieving the fantasy of the family they wish they had.

✧ Let them try to earn love. Your character might work their ass off trying to “be good,” hoping maybe this time they’ll be enough. Toxic families move the goalposts. Let that break them a little.

✧ Show emotional whiplash... One moment everything is warm and nostalgic. The next, it’s tense and full of landmines. That unpredictability is the dynamic. Use it.

✧ Don’t make the villain cartoonish. Even the abuser might think they’re doing what’s best. They might bake cookies and say “I’m just worried about you.” That’s what makes it so damaging. Write them like people, flawed, manipulative, real.

✧ Let your character unlearn in layers. Even after they leave, they still flinch. Still fold under pressure. Still crave approval. Recovery isn’t clean. But it’s worth it. And when they finally say no, even just once, let it be electric.

write-on-world

castletownranger

HEY

For all you WONDERFUL FIC WRITERS who made the mistake of following me

LOOK AT THIS

aryaokayfriend

I- I didn’t realize this but it’s so true

sleepy-writes-stuff

I’ve had these thoughts, too. Universe really said, “Hey! You need to see this” 😳

luna-azzurra

Making a Character Whine in Monologue

I’m a big believer in letting characters bleed quietly. You know, the kind of emotional tension that simmers just under the surface—not the dramatic “I am torn!” speeches. Here’s how I like to sneak internal conflict into my writing without making my characters feel like they belong in a bad soap opera... Have Fun! (｡♥‿♥｡)

╰ Saying the opposite of what they feel. Like insisting they’re fine while gripping a coffee mug like it personally insulted their ancestors.

╰ Pausing before responding to something simple. Because sometimes the silence says “I’m thinking too hard about this” louder than a whole paragraph ever could.

╰ Changing the subject when things get too close to their emotional soft spot. Classic evasion. Bonus points if they pretend it's for someone else’s sake.

╰ Making choices that contradict their stated goals. "I swear I’m over them"—cut to them rerouting an entire road trip to pass by their ex’s hometown.

╰ Being too nice. Yep. People-pleasing? Avoidance in a trench coat.

╰ Fixating on a tiny, irrelevant detail while avoiding the bigger thing. They can’t deal with their grief, but they can definitely spend 12 minutes lining up pens perfectly.

╰ Snapping at someone they trust—then immediately regretting it. Because pain has to leak out somewhere, and it’s usually not in a convenient monologue.

╰ Doing something “just in case,” but obviously hoping for the opposite. Packing a goodbye gift they never plan to give. Writing a message they never send.

╰ Rewriting memories in their head. “It wasn’t that bad. They didn’t mean it. I probably deserved it.” A spiral in slow motion.

╰ Being hyper-aware of how others are reacting to them. Internal conflict often turns into external paranoia: “Did she flinch? Was I too cold? Did he see that?”

#bluesresources